


Don't Let the Stars Get in Your Eyes (Don't Let the Moon Break Your Heart)

by OliverWoodGryffindorKeeper



Category: Big Eden (2000), Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Awkward Flirting, Cooking, F/F, Food, Jared Kleinman is just two lesbians in a trenchcoat, M/M, canon character death - big eden, everyone is in their late 20's, i ran out of DEH people, sorry about inserting BMC characters, stealing plot, tree boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-31
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-16 10:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14809610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OliverWoodGryffindorKeeper/pseuds/OliverWoodGryffindorKeeper
Summary: When his mom falls ill, dendrologist and painter Evan Hansen travels back to his rural Montana town to take care of her.Connor Murphy is in charge of ensuring the two are fed, and Jared's choice of chef isn't quite up to par, so he takes things into his own hands.This is just my all-encompassing love for Big Eden (an amazing, wonderful, sweet-but-not-cheesy film) creeping into my other interests and the DEH characters fitting into roles a little too easily for me not to.I also have a friend who's been non-stop spamming me with TreeBoys fics for weeks and I love her for it, this is for her.





	1. "BMC Gallery Presents: Evan Hansen - Navigations"

"BMC Gallery Presents: Evan Hansen - Navigations"

 

The sign in the foyer was too large, the forced half-grin on Evan’s face blown up so large it was almost pixellated. Evan grimaced and shuffled past the banner into the blindingly white gallery itself and took a calming breath.

The workers were gently taking his paintings out of their wooden traveling cases and he directed them to the correct spots. Most artists he knew set up their showings in a sort of linear or chronological sequence. Jeremy Mell, for instance, knew just how to use each painting to direct the eye to the next. Evan just hung his paintings in the order in which he liked them best in his studio, and he placed them in the same way out of habit.

The comforting presence of his best work usually gave him the inspiration to keep working, and he felt uncomfortable when any of his pieces were moved. Just getting up the courage to remove the not-terrible work from his studio had him sitting in the near-empty room holding back the anxiety attack he knew would come.

The workers had his paintings out and leaning up against their proper places, so he walked around the room, lifting and straightening a few of the smaller pieces while the moving crew cleaned up their debris and his agent swept the floor where the packing supples and tape had fallen. The white floor once again pristine, the woman helped him heave the middling sized pieces up into their places and fiddled with the angles, standing back and coming forward to pull and push the canvas to one side and the other as Evan twiddled anxiously with his thumbs against the blue polo he was wearing.

The crew lifted the rest of Evan’s artwork onto the walls, patiently moving it in tiny increments until he was satisfied. Mary made the rest of the little aesthetic adjustments to his paintings, the flyers and decorations, the placement of the cocktail tables as Evan spun slowly, slowly in circles, gazing at his work standing out in relief on the stark white walls.

The elevator doors were still papered with ripped "Out of Order" signs, so Evan hefted his bike onto his shoulder as well as he was able, balancing his drink and take-out bag in his other hand. The phone in his apartment was ringing, and he raced up the stairs to catch it, grumbling, "Why couldn’t they call my cell?"

The door to his loft was a tricky barn-style sliding monstrosity and he was holding too many things to fish out his keys. Gripping the handles of his take-out in his mouth and feeling the outside of his pockets to find his key, he put down his bike and tried to flip the kickstand with his foot. He missed the stand, stubbed his toe on the metal frame, tipped his drink forward, spilling sticky Coke all over the hall floor, and almost dropped his food gasping as the keys slipped in his hand.

His bike leaning against his body, Evan eventually got the door open, stumbled over the thing in his haste to get inside. His dinner fell out of his mouth and onto the grass-green rug of his living room as he raced to the phone, but it was too late. His stutter-filled answering message played, he winced at the sound, and a deep voice on the other end was saying, "Uh, it’s uh Jared?" when he snatched the offensive device out of its cradle on the end table.

Looking ruefully over his spilled dinner and sticky front door, rubbing his sore toes, he answered the phone, "Yeah, hey Jared, what’s up?"

He hadn’t heard from the other man since his last attempt at setting his mother up with working internet had required tech-savvy intervention. Reminding himself to give Jared his cell number so he didn’t have to answer the phone - he hated talking on the phone - he almost didn’t hear what the man had called him about.

"-well, it’s about Heidi…" The calm in his voice was obviously only for Evan’s benefit.

"Jared, what’s wrong?"


	2. Month 1 - June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's really not a good playlist anywhere I could find, of all the songs that made up Big Eden's soundtrack, so I made a youtube playlist. It's not the best, but - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Jw60c1igss&list=PLylVSHZYDsDraEhwe6ftHTkbr45GDmLHy.  
> I also listened to some other country music, by LGBTQ singers or as close to it as I could find. Country is... not the genre in which most LGBTQ musicians are in, usually. But they include "Follow Your Arrow" Kelly Musgraves and "Cowboys are Frequently Secretly" by Ned Sublette (on repeat lol), as well as, just for kicks, the album "Just Bear With It!" by Freddy Freeman. Because once I found it, I couldn't not. Other gay country recs are appreciated!

The hospital room was small and cramped and Heidi Hansen lay still and pale in a too-big gown with tubes under her nose and in her arm.  
"Momma…" Evan whispered sadly, "why didn’t you tell me?"  
Evan kissed his mother and settled into the chair next to her bed to wait. The flight had been more nerve-wracking than he’d expected and he was exhausted from the travel and the worry. Fifty people stuffed into one over-heated tin box and the experience of going through two guarded metal detectors had reminded Evan of why he usually made this a road trip. And his uncertain work schedule as a New Jersey Park Ranger and dendrologist ensured that didn’t happen often.  
Sooner than his tired brain would like, Evan was being shaken awake in the uncomfortable chair and Jared Kleinman was hovering over him worriedly, "Evan…" he breathed.  
"Oh, Jared." Evan was suddenly overcome at the sound of his old friend’s voice, and so so grateful for the looks he was shooting Heidi, trying to gauge her condition.  
Jared leaned over and pressed his lips softly to Evan’s forehead. "Come on you, let’s get some coffee. The doc wants to talk to us."  
Evan followed the other man, his fingers wrapped into the hem of Jared’s coat as they navigated the busy hospital hallways to get to a coffee machine. He felt much more alert bare minutes after the caffeine hit his system.  
The doctor was waiting for them in his tiny office, flipping through Heidi’s charts. He explained all the scary things that were typed in the plain black and white type that Evan hated. Things like "overwork," "family history" and "possibilities of stroke." Evan had a white-knuckle grip on Jared’s hand the whole time, and Jared was tight-lipped and attentive rather than his usual spastic, sarcastic self as the doctor explained the kind of home treatment the boys could provide.  
Once the doctor was finished and Evan was furnished with every booklet and pamphlet the hospital could supply, they went to check on Heidi.  
"Oh, honey!" She reached out to her son. "Why’d you come all the way out here? Your opening!"  
"Mom, you had a heart attack." If Evan was capable of hiding his exasperation, he wouldn’t have.  
"I'm perfectly fine, you didn't need to come."  
"Mrs. Hansen, you fell off Mrs. Cleanfield's roof sweeping out her gutter," Jared interjected from his corner.  
"You hold your tongue, Jared Kleinman!"  
"Mother! Why would you-?" Evan sat heavily on the side of her bed.  
Heidi crossed her arms defensively, tangling herself somewhat hilariously in the IV line. "My father built that house."  
"Grandpa built every house in town." Evan sighed.  
"Her gutters were overflowing, and I had to-" Evan cut his mother off before she could get any further in her excuse.  
"You don't have to anything! You don't have any responsibility to keep up those houses." Evan gently scooted further onto the bed and touched his mother's hand. "Mom, you're a nurse, not a home-repair specialist."  
Heidi looked away from her son and closed her eyes. "Her gutters just needed cleaning out." She turned to look at Evan, to will him to understand.  
He did. When his father had left them, it was only by the goodwill of the townspeople that their house had stayed clean, in good repair and under the Hansen name. Heidi has run a hospice/care facility out of the unoccupied sections of the huge ranch Grandpa Hansen had built, taking advantage of the ten-acre property. They had let parts of the acreage out to owners of the local livestock, kept the evergreen stock in good supply for the winter, and started small gardens for the patients who lived with them as part of their therapy. Evan had had the distinct displeasure of running the spring fruit stall when the gardens had produced every year.  
Heidi slowly fell asleep as their argument came to a close and the toll on her overworked heart took over. Jared reluctantly pulled Evan out of the hospital room.

The drive out to Autumn Orchard was two hours of pure agony for Evan. The once-familiar trees of Montana were now too large, too tall, hulking over him like nightmare-monsters. He was too used now to the slim, hug-sized birches and sugar maples of New Jersey.  
Jared kept the radio low and the chatter light as he drove through the dim dawn back to their hometown. Gossip was the order of the day - beginning with who’d had kids in the intervening years since Evan had left for college and what grades they were in at Jared’s little elementary school, ending only when they reached the house with, "Cynthia Murphy is jittery from your homecoming, but John and I’ve managed to delay her until Heidi comes from the hospital, and she agreed that you need to concentrate on your mom."  
Evan laughed at the thought of the meddling, matchmaking widow trying and failing to set him up with all the eligible young ladies in a two hundred mile radius. Jared glanced over at him and smiled. He remembered the to-do when he’d come out to the town - not like half of them didn’t know it anyway - and married big-town doctor John, but Evan had always been quiet, shy. He’d dated girls in high school, but only if he was the one asked out, preferring to study the college-level bio texts or go hiking and rock climbing to the more mundane youthful activities their tiny town had on offer.  
Jared tried to picture Evan out on one of the Senior Excursions to Miles City, squeezed into the bed of a pickup truck with seven other teenagers, or stuffed in the cabin of a six-seater Station Wagon filled to capacity with his peers on the three-hour drive to the nearest town with a bar that wouldn’t card them. Jared shuddered, the would-have-been panic on his friend’s face after one of those trips was uncomfortable enough.  
The sign for the ranch finally came into view. "Evergreen Heart," Jared announced in his most chipper bus driver voice. Evan grinned at his friend, pulling his satchel over the divider and climbing out before Jared’s Outback had even finished rolling to a stop.  
Evan immediately started for the house, but Jared called him back, laughing.  
"John and I are feeding you for now, until you get settled in and Heidi comes back from the hospital. The truck’s all gassed up and ready for you. Bill did an inspection just last month, so everything should be in good shape. See you at six." Jared gripped Evan’s shoulder, sobering, "It’s good to have you back, buddy."  
Evan slapped the roof of the car and nodded in response before grabbing his bags and heading for the house.  
Glancing back, Evan saw Jared make the turn onto the highway at the end of the long drive. He dropped his bags on the concrete slab by the door and took off running down the gentle slope. The trees on the road side of the lake grew right down almost into the water, and Evan climbed hand over hand, not even thinking, just trusting the branches to hold his weight.  
Without pulling off his overshirt or boots, Evan reached a good height and launched himself out and away, into the deep waters of the lake, screaming.  
He was home. Now he just had to convince the rest of the town that was true after they inevitably learned everything.

Evan had spent the past two weeks cleaning out his old room, checking finances and looking in on his mother’s patients. He was unaccustomed to so much free time and found himself using it to re-explore the forests, mountains and secret gardens of his childhood home.  
Unfamiliar with the higher level of animal activity in Montana as compared to New Jersey’s more tame deer and occasional raccoon, and after the first too-close encounter with a mountain lion, Evan took to carrying his grandfather’s old hunting rifle. Just as a deterrent to curious predators, he told himself.  
The groceries Jared and John had supplied the Heart with had started to dwindle to a level even Evan was uncomfortable with, so he decided to brave a visit to the school in order not to have to do his shopping unsupervised. Parking the truck outside the elementary building, where all grades below junior high gathered for a few weeks of summer care, Evan navigated the halls to find his friend’s class.  
Jared was explaining some homework to an older student, so Evan tapped the little window. Jared glanced up, Evan waved and was beckoned inside. The tiny chairs were mostly full, and Jared was still helping the girl with her difficult problem set. Jared would probably chew him out if he stood creepily against the back wall, so he sat at a table otherwise full of engrossed-looking four year olds. He wondered who the girl with dark skin studded with freckles whom Jared was helping belonged to.  
Evan had thought he’d be able to sit in silent observation of the class, but the safety scissor-wielding toddlers looked up in unison as he took a seat.  
"Um, hello." He should have remembered: kids were creepy.  
"Hi. Who’re you?" The tallest girl at the table stared him down, serious as a sheriff in a western. He hadn’t even felt this scrutinized the time he’d been questioned by the police after a body had been found in his park. Of course, he’d mostly been in shock, then.  
"I’m Mr. Kleinman’s friend, Evan."  
The girl made an unimpressed noise.  
"What, ah, what can I do?" he asked, glancing around at their artwork strewn across the table.  
"You make the stars," she demanded imperiously, "they’re hard."  
Evan took the orange scissors and plain white copier paper she handed him. It had probably been when he was their age that he had last held a pair like it, and he contorted his grip several times before finding a relatively comfortable position. After folding the printer paper, he began cutting out star-shapes from the edges before making little snips to the center and corners of his scraps. Tiny geometric shapes fluttered to the table and the kids half abandoned their own projects to watch him.  
"What is he doing?" the older girl asked, leaning over to her friend and shanking her head to emphasize each word. Evan didn’t remember kindergarteners having that much derision or sass in their tones when he’d been one.  
"Here - we - go!" Evan unfolded his creation and proudly displayed it to his audience.  
"That’s a snowflake!" The little boy to his right was the picture of adorable. Evan was not just biased because of the child’s obvious love of his art project.  
"That’s right!" Evan grinned at him.  
"Snowflakes don’t go on flags?" Evan couldn’t tell if the boy was asking or telling him, but he dropped his art on the table and picked up another piece of paper to re-create his masterpiece.  
"Sure they do," he thought quickly, congratulating himself when he stuttered only slightly over the lie, "the uh flag of the North Pole has.. ah seven snowflakes on it!"  
"The North Pole isn’t a country," one of the other kids declared angrily. These kids definitely wouldn’t start geography for a couple years at least, but Evan was impressed with her conviction.  
"Yes, it is." Evan put all his conviction and adult authority into his words.  
"That’s not true?" the little angel at his side spoke up again.  
"Hm?" Evan pretended to think for a second. "Name the president of the North Pole!" He looked at the boy expectantly.  
"Umm…" He leaned back in his chair so far Evan thought he might tip over, thinking hard. He glanced at his classmates for help, but they were hard at work pretending not to be listening. "Santa Claus!" Even his accent was the sweetest thing Evan had ever heard.  
"See?" Evan grinned at their tablemates, who still looked unconvinced. The oldest girl even scoffed again and rolled her eyes at him.  
"We’re making Fourth of July flags. You need to make the stars!"  
"Ohhh…" If he hadn’t known better, Evan would have thought the little vocal brunette was Jared’s kid. She’d probably still picked up her tone from her teacher.  
"Making friends?" Jared clapped Evan on the shoulders. He’d approached quietly so as not to disturb the hilarious argument which had grabbed his attention, but made sure Evan could see him so as not to startle the other man.  
"He’s supposed to be making stars!" a redhead at the opposite end tattled.  
"Stars?" Evan looked confused, rummaging under construction paper and paint-covered tubes of glue. He pulled a handful of perfect five-points out and sprinkled them in the middle of the table.  
The red-haired girl gasped in delight and grabbed a sticky handful while his cherub stared at him in awe. Jared laughed loudly at his trick before heaving Evan out of his tiny chair. "Moran Beck, you’re in charge while I take Mr. Hansen across the street. I’ll be right back." His classroom business thus settled, Jared dragged Evan down the hall a little ways to the jacket hooks, grinning madly. "You know who you were just talking to?" Evan peeked back into the room and shook his head. "That’s Basil Murphy." He raised his eyebrow. "Zoe Murphy’s son?"  
"Oh my gosh?" Evan darted back from the door in case Zoe somehow saw him through her mom-telepathy. "Zoe has kids?" Jared laughed at his incredulity, pointing back inside at another little tawny-haired boy, older than the first by about five years. "That’s her older son, Luka."  
"Oh my god, she’s still here?" Evan dared another look into the classroom, realizing what the presence of Murphy kids in Jared’s classroom meant.  
"Yeah. Richard was really pushing for a move to Helena, but Zoe didn’t want to take the kids out of school. They split up about a year ago, but it wasn’t really all about that." Jared grinned at Evan’s dopey expression. "So, we’re back on this again. She would have sent you the birth announcements, but you ran away to New Jersey without leaving a forwarding address, so yours went to Heidi." "I - I," Evan spluttered, "I went to New York for school! And then I got the job with the Jersey parks and I like it."  
Jared sobered. "I know," he whispered. "You need to talk to her, Ev."  
"I don’t-" Evan started back down the corridor, "I don’t know w-what you mean. I mean, if Zoe wants to talk, she knows, she knows where I’ll be."  
Jared sighed at his oblivious friend, not bothering to point out Zoe had no way of knowing Evan was back in town unless he contacted her first. Instead, he followed Evan out of the school and across the road to the refurbished general store.  
A tall man in khakis and a fishing hat too large for his head stood when they approached, stepping in front of the door. "Hey, Dale," Jared slapped the man’s shoulder in greeting, gestured to Evan, "this is Evan Hansen, Heidi’s boy? Evan, this is Dale Heere."  
The two men exchanged greetings, then Dale turned to introduce Evan to the other six men lounging on the uncomfortable porch furniture. Jared noticed Evan was fidgeting and took that as his cue to pull Dave’s attention away from the seven dwarfs and to their mission. "Hey, Dale, is Connor in?"  
Dale’s eyes went wide as his gaze darted to Evan. "Uh, yeah, but I don’t think-"  
"Perfect! We need to talk to him." Jared grabbed Evan’s shoulders and steered him bodily into the shop, past the minuscule combination library bookstore, the "lounge" and bait refrigerators, shelves full of odds, ends, and middly bits, directly to the counter in the back. He leant around and over the chest-high surface, calling, "Connor. Connor!"  
"Jared! Stop yellin’." Dale pulled the other man off the counter, grabbing his waist as he tried to climb the obstacle.  
Evan rolled his eyes and retreated as far away as he could do politely, as this trip was on his behalf, and lit up when a beautiful collie-mix trotted right up to him. She put his muzzle in his outstretched hand, sniffing for treats and looking dejectedly up at him when he didn’t with beautiful dark brown eyes. Evan patted his lap as he took a seat in one of the overstuffed chairs and she climbed in with him immediately, evidently forgiving his traitorous lack of treats in favour of glorious ear-scritching.  
"What is going on here?" The voice that came from the staff door was quiet, but it cut through the noise with the ease of long-suffering practice. He looked to Jared, still half-lying on his countertop, and glared at Dale as the two men grappled too near his merchandise for his liking. Connor grabbed the Nuttigrain bars and moved them a safe distance away just in time for Dale to finally pull Jared back to the floor. Hearing the sound of his dog snuffling in someone’s pockets, he glanced over to Evan, and raised his eyebrow. "Brook!" His dog didn’t usually come out into the store when customers were there, and she didn’t like other men touching her besides Connor.  
Brook chuffed at Evan and bumped her head into his chin before climbing out of the chair and going to join her dad. Evan started up in his post dog-petting haze, his gaze drifted up slowly from the dog and into the face of her owner. "C-Connor Murphy? Oh. I uh I have to um." Evan turned toward the door in one direction and pointed at it in the other, with no result other than making himself dizzy. He tried to dodge around Dale to make his escape, but it was too late. Jared grabbed Evan’s wrist and pulled him forward to present him to the other man.  
"Connor, how are you doing?" The taller man responded to this with a barely concealed eye-roll and raised eyebrow, by which he meant I was doing pretty well until just now. "This is Evan Hansen." Jared pushed him toward the counter a bit to block him in as he let go of Evan’s wrist. "Evan and his mom Heidi need some simple groceries, as well as someone willing to provide them with dinners for the next little while. Heidi just got out of the hospital and…"  
Everyone’s eyes gravitated toward Evan slowly. The young man felt all the eyes on him and looked up from where he had been trying to summon Brook to him so he could bury his hands back in her thick, silky fur. Propping his head in his hand and his elbow on the counter, he aimed for nonchalance and said, "Oh, I. I don’t uh cook. I mean. I can’t cook."  
Connor nodded, glanced at Jared then back down at his work surface as he moved behind the counter. Whatever he found there must have been much more fascinating, because he didn’t glance back up while Dave and Jared argued about who would be best suited to cook food Heidi could eat.  
"Your mom!" Dale insisted, turning to Connor, who looked skeptical.  
"What?" Jared stared at the dark-haired man, wondering why he was suddenly in need of his mother.  
"Um, Cynthia Murphy could do it?" Jared snapped his fingers, causing both Evan and Connor to jump at the unexpected noise.  
"Yeah, that would work! You’d have to act as messenger, though, Connor. Cynthia doesn’t exactly get along with Heidi unless they’re not in the same building."  
"I- I c-" Connor started, but Jared clapped, thanked the other men and dragged Evan out of the shop.

Jared and John pulled Heidi from the Outback while Evan puzzled out how to open her wheelchair. The Kleinman clan stayed to one last dinner before leaving mother and son to talk face to face for the first time in almost ten years.  
Evan and Heidi traded silly stories, Heidi regaled Evan with simple stories from around their small mountain town, and he returned with details on his gallery showings and life as a New Jersey park ranger. Deep conversations and soul-searching questions they saved for another night, and Evan insisted at eleven that they both go in to bed. Two weeks in the hospital might have given Heidi plenty of rest, but recovering from a heart attack still drained a lot of her energy, and Evan was still suffering from jet lag despite his frequent naps.  
The next day, Evan and Heidi walked around the house, moving things in the kitchen, bedroom and living room into easier reach while Heidi was in her chair and making notes of bigger changes they’d need to make until she didn’t need it.  
In the afternoon, Heidi insisted on talking with her patients. The other nurses she employed had taken over for her hospital stay, and would make sure she was relegated to visitation and paperwork until the doctors cleared her for more strenuous activity.  
That night was the first time Connor Murphy brought the Hanses dinner. Evan was on the phone with Jared when there was a knock at the back door. He went to answer it with the phone still in his hand, beckoning Connor inside as he argued with his friend and twisted himself up in the long teal cord.  
"Maybe now is when you finally tell Heidi you’re gay!" Jared enthused, laughing over the line in response to something his husband had said.  
Evan’s eyes widened and darted over to where Heidi was sitting with Connor arranging the Tupperware around her. "Say that a little louder, please?" Connor met his gaze over the table. The other man’s face relaxed, his shoulders fell away from his shoulders minutely and the corners of his mouth straightened instead of tipping downward, white peeking though pink lips as his teeth showed.  
"Mr. Murphy, why don’t you stay to dinner?" Connor physically recoiled at the sound of Heidi’s voice, his shoulders around his ears, frown back in place. Slowly, his eyes drew away from Evan’s and the latter felt the loss. Jared was still laughing on the other end of the call when Evan said, "Ok, ok, bye, Kleinman," and hung the receiver back on its hook/  
Turning to Connor, Evan held out a container of already-congealing gravy. "Please stay?" Connor shrugged and Evan stepped forward, sending the other man into retreat. "Really. I’ll end up throwing out all the leftovers," Evan pleaded.  
"Uh, no ah, no thanks. I have my own…supper…at home," Connor lied slowly. He backed toward the door, so Evan followed to see him out. Rather than turning and fleeing, as Evan would have done in his place, Connor backed all the way to the entrance he had used earlier. It seemed as though he wanted to escape as quickly as possible, but he was afraid to take his eyes off Evan while he did so.  
His backpedaling caused Connor to bump into several hard objects, he was sure to have bruises in the morning. But whenever Evan reached out to steer him away from the obstacles, Connor flinched back so violently he practically threw himself into them instead before the other man could touch him. His brow furrowed each time before smoothing out when he looked up from the floor through his lashes. Eventually, the men managed to maneuver outside and Evan bid Connor "goodnight," to which he received another intense stare and a shy nod.  
Evan tried to enjoy his meal and the peaceful evening alone with his mother at last. He was having trouble though, not with the company or the long silences between topics, even the unutterable awkwardness of being back in his childhood home after more than a decade away was fading as the weeks passed. No, Evan Hansen’s trouble was with the food itself. It was edible, certainly; palatable, only with copious amounts of salt for Evan and the knowledge that it could be salted for Heidi. Cynthia Murphy seemed to be of the opinion that all meat should be fried, and since Heidi couldn’t eat fried food, she had resorted to boiling it - unsalted, also for Ms. Hansen’s health - to oblivion. Her idea of a vegetable was dry mashed potatoes, and for dessert she had packed them what seemed to be a fruit salad in syrup and covered in whipped cream, leftover from the seventies and wrapped in so much plastic that Evan gave up trying to peel it open.  
Heidi shooed her son out of the kitchen after he’d washed the dishes, joining him on the porch when she was finished drying, two huge bowls of chocolate mint ice cream balanced in her lap as she tried to heave herself over the lip of the doorway.  
Evan grabbed his mother’s wheelchair before she could launch herself down the hill and into the lake, tutting when he saw the dessert. He settled when his mother reminded him that Jared had gotten heart-healthy snacks and light desserts. Heidi handed her son his bowl of ice cream once they were both comfortable on the porch and neither of them was in danger of rolling down the hill. They sat in silence, Evan staring up at the sky, the way the stars peeked and winked through the treetops as the breeze ruffled leaves and lighter branches, Heidi casting glances at her son every so often as she watched the town lights flicker out over the water.

Connor Murphy sipped his gin coffee and slowly flipped through an old classical studies textbook as he stargazed from the balcony of his apartment over the shop. Brook lay at his feet, yawning and snapping her teeth at fireflies that came too close. Long after Evan and Heidi Hansen had gone to bed, Connor blinked and reached down to ruffle Brook’s fur as a streak of brilliant white plunged toward the horizon. Connor closed his eyes and muttered softly before standing and herding his dog inside to their own beds.

Evan reluctantly followed his mother into the church. Heidi had told him that morning before they left that if it made his anxiety too bad, he didn’t have to come with her, but since he was her ride, he’d probably just find something to do in town while she was in service. Evan loved that his mom took it in stride that sometimes he couldn’t deal with the lights and sounds, or the sermon content, or even just the fact that he had to sit for an hour with doors at his back.  
The first Sunday service he attended, Evan knew, would be on homecoming and the importance of family. It was an Autumn Orchard tradition when people came back from any absence longer than a year.  
He walked down the aisle and took a seat on the edge of the middle pew his mother usually occupied. The singing had finished, the announcements been announced, and their pastor had just begun with the traditional, "Home is wherever you find your family in Christ," opener when the doors burst open and a tiny dark-blond child bolted down the aisle directly to Evan.  
"Basil," a familiar female voice hissed from behind him as the cherub from Jared’s class earlier in the week climbed into Evan’s lap.  
The congregation went silent and some kept their gaze firmly on the pastor, faces grim, but the majority turned to the trio who’d interrupted their service. Evan buried his face in the child’s - Basil’s - sweater as the little boy clung to him, his frayed nerves soothed by nonjudgemental contact and his breathing easing to its normal rhythm sooner than it usually would after such a loud noise. Heidi gazed at him calculatingly and he didn’t pull out of the impromptu hug until the soft shick of heels in shag carpet and a gentle cough cut through the pastor’s droning just loudly enough for Evan to hear.  
He looked up from his tiny bodyguard and stared into the light green eyes of the woman crouching next to him.  
"Bas, come here, we need to go sit down." The woman smiled softly at her son, then turned her lovely familiar eyes on Evan in an apologetic grimace. Zoe Murphy rocked back on her heels when she recognized Evan, who shot out a hand to steady her before she could fall over. "Evan Hansen?" she asked, disbelievingly.  
"He-hey, Zoe." Evan helped Basil climb back down.  
"It’s the man, Mommy. The man Santa sent. He was sad." Evan curled his fingers in an aborted wave as they made their way to the Murphy pew, where Cynthia was already seated. The other woman gently guided Zoe’s older son to an inside seat on the pew, and yanked the younger boy’s arm roughly to her side, scolding him for his "inappropriate behaviour in a place of worship" before Zoe smacked her hand away and pulled the four year old into her lap. Cynthia scowled at her daughter before turning a benevolent smile on the older boy and patting his knee proudly.  
Evan scowled at the most blatant public display of emotional abuse he’d seen in a while. Sure, New Jersey parks had their fair share of visiting families and sometimes the "discipline" parents doled out on trips was uncalled for, but Evan could always report those cases and have backup from other park-goers and coworkers. He hadn’t seen a case of internalized, community-wide accepted abuse since… the last year before he’d left for college. He’d spent most of his time at the Murphy house because of Zoe’s first pregnancy and impending marriage to Richard. Evan hadn’t stayed for the birth, had turned in his applications to east coast schools as soon as Zoe had announced her pregnancy. Luka hadn’t even been a year old when Evan returned for his grandfather’s funeral, and the Jameson’s had moved out to Columbia Falls the next week, just before Evan headed back to New York for school.  
Evan spent the rest of the church service spacing out, staring at the back of Zoe’s head, remembering. His heart was pounding and he could feel the flush in his cheeks, he didn’t seem to be as over that as he thought he had been. Evan knew his mother’s eyes were on him at different times throughout the sermon, and he knew if he met them, she’d see right through him and perhaps even chide him for his unfortunate feelings for a newly-divorced woman. Even one who’d been his best friend since birth, even one she’d known he’d been in love with since middle school.

Cynthia Murphy cornered him out on the porch after service as he tried to lift Heidi’s wheelchair down the stairs on his own. She dragged him bodily away from his mother just as he had tipped the front wheels onto the first step, and his wild grab for the handles missed. Luckily, Zoe got a hold of the chair before Heidi could fall headfirst down the steep steps.  
"Oh, Evan, it is so good to have you home again at last!" There wasn’t enough of a pause for Evan to point out New Jersey was his home, so he didn’t waste his breath as Cynthia continued, "I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve invited a few friends out for a little get-together. Don’t even worry," she patted his cheek in a shushing motion, "about the refreshments. We’ll handle that. Just a couple close acquaintances, mind." And she whirled around to confirm times, addresses and pick-ups with at least five groups of young women before Evan, with help from Zoe and sons, had gotten Heidi down to the ground. He sighed and tried not to freak out at the thought of being social with so many strangers he and his mother had not invited to their house.  
Heidi let him have a quiet panic attack in his bedroom, locking the doors to family spaces and the nursing wing before clearing off surfaces for the incoming women to lay their offerings. She then fumed in the living room, carving rough snarling animals as quickly as she could and thinking about the woman who had terrorized her own and other peoples’ children and grandchildren, hosting a party in the Evergreen Heart. Uninvited, unwelcome and unwanted as usual, Cynthia Murphy’s main character traits.

By the time Cynthia pulled through the drive of Evergreen Heart, the carpark usually reserved for visiting family in the patient wing was full of unfamiliar vehicles. Women of all heights and hair colors lifted covered dishes out of passenger seats, almost in unison, and filed through the kitchen door as soon as Evan opened it.  
The ladies lay their offerings on the available surfaces, handing Heidi any chilled dishes and automatically organizing food by course and content, as only women at a potluck can. Evan spent his first hour mingling, sneaking food from dishes that looked edible, and dodging Mrs. Murphy’s attempts to wrangle him. He slipped outside at one point, only to groan when Cynthia immediately stuck her head and most of her upper body out the living room window and 'yoo-hoo'-ed him until he met her at the kitchen door.  
As soon as he was inside, Cynthia latched onto Evan’s arm and dragged him around the living room and dining room/kitchen to introduce him to all the young ladies who lived within fifty miles of Autumn Orchard.  
"Ally! Ally!" Cynthia called, her voice going impossibly high on the second syllable.  
A young woman with dark skin, black hair in a tight bun, still wearing her maroon suit after her morning meetings turned to face them. Evan stuck out his hand for the woman to shake, grinning and waving at the little girl he recognized from Jared’s class.  
"Evan Hansen, this is Mayoress Alana Beck," Cynthia declared as she swept her arm toward the woman.  
"Mayor. Alana." The dark-haired woman shook Evan’s hand, "How’s things, Hansen?"  
"Al? Hey! I’m really good, how are you?" He looked down between them, where Alana’s hands rested on her daughter’s shoulders. "You have a kid. You have a kid?"  
Alana laughed. "Yeah, this is Moran. Rama and I had her a few years after you left last time."  
Evan reached out to clasp the girl’s hand and she shook it solemnly.  
"We met the other day, Mom. He’s Mr. Kleinman’s friend who visited our school."  
Alana smiled gently at her daughter and began to ask Evan about his plans to stay before Cynthia dragged him away again in a huff.  
"Today is about making new friends, not catching up with old ones!"  
Cynthia pulled Evan into and out of conversations with other guests all afternoon. He couldn’t figure out what her criteria was for how well or badly an interaction with the other women was going, and though his mind continued to try to work it out, he pushed it to the back and ignored the running commentary it supplied for him. Some of the girls seemed perfectly polite and interesting, but Evan couldn’t imagine spending any significant amount of time with any of them. He found his gaze drawn constantly back to Alana Beck, the only familiar face in this sea of strangers.  
Evan had begun to look around for his mother, both to check on her and as an excuse to escape Cynthia’s matchmaking clutches when a loud noise at the front door startled everyone. In a blur of motion, Evan had an armful of little boy. The contact helped calm him from the sudden noise and staved off the panic attack he could feel beginning as he concentrated instead on the child he held.  
"Well, hello, Bas." Evan chuckled, but Cynthia snatched Basil from him and set him on the ground.  
She smoothed out the child’s clothing in hard motions more like smacks than caresses and created more wrinkles than she fixed. "Basil Murphy, we do not jump on people." Evan pulled a face, but didn’t correct Cynthia. He knew he could make it worse for the little boy if he contradicted his grandmother’s instructions in public.  
Luka stopped up short in his run toward Evan and solemnly held out his hand, glancing between his brother and grandmother with a frown. Evan shook the older boy’s hand before taking Basil’s and turning toward the kitchen once more. Ignoring Cynthia in favor of the boys, he said, "Let’s go find my mom, alright?"  
Evan and the little Murphys found their mothers chatting in the kitchen, with Alana and her daughter sitting with them at the table. Between sentences, the four were making steady headway through what looked to be a syrup-cherry pie. Evan winced when he saw it, sure it was one of the heinous can-filling mixes, one of the worst choices his mother could have made out of the many desserts the ladies in his living room had brought.  
"What," said Evan, "are you doing?"  
Heidi sighed with a forkful of cherry almost to her lips. It looked like she hadn’t yet started, but who knew how many slices she’d eaten before Evan had discovered her. He narrowed his eyes. How many slices Zoe and Alana had let her eat.  
"Luka?" Heidi set down her fork and pushed the pie-tin toward the middle of the table. "Come eat this for me, sweetheart."  
The boy beamed and took his place next to Heidi as Zoe scooped another fork out of the basket and shared her pumpkin directly out of the tin with her younger son. Alana casually sliced a bite out of the pumpkin, but had to reach around Zoe, now, to do so. She flushed as Evan grinned, her thievery had not gone unnoticed.  
"I think it’s just about time for a good, afternoon nap," Heidi announced to no one in particular and Cynthia, who still lurked the saloon-swing doorway of the kitchen, in specific.  
"Great idea, Mom!" Evan pushed past the woman in the doorway, calling over his shoulder, "I’ll just tell everyone goodbye and run you a bath."  
Zoe winced as her mother narrowed her eyes at Heidi, but even Cynthia Murphy knew when she was beaten at houseguest etiquette. So she gathered her (still full) Tupperware and bid the boys help her carry them to the car. Luka looked to his mother, who nodded but placed her arm around Bas’ shoulders, keeping him in place in case he had noticed the command. Her younger son was busy regaling Heidi with stories of his own bathtime, which often included the rescue of brave warrior princesses from deadly duck-dragons. And large quantities of floor-splashed water for Zoe.  
Luka grabbed Moran’s hand and loaded her down with food before taking his own stack out to the too-big minivan Cynthia had bought the instant Zoe’s marriage was announced. No subliminal messaging there, thought Zoe cynically. The two older children, laden with food, only had one trip out to the cars to get all of Cynthia’s out, so she didn’t notice Basil had ignored her.  
"Looks like you still have quite a spread," Zoe observed, smirking at Evan. The table in the kitchen was laden with pies and other desserts, the countertops lousy with pot-luck potato salad, and every surface from the reception hall to the den was covered in main dishes and sides.  
"Yeah, yeah." Evan laughed. "You guys take some of this with you. Feed those starving monsters." Moran laughed when her mother reached out to tickle her stomach as she came back from her delivery right on time for Evan’s last statement.  
Evan, Zoe and Alana gathered up the last of the most unhealthy desserts and sides and loaded the ladies’ cars as the children ran and screamed in the yard.  
"Smile’s after?" Zoe asked, as Evan handed her the last of the food. She placed it on the floorboard of her SUV beneath Bas’ swinging feet as Luka helped buckle in his little brother.  
Alana beamed, her eyes softening as she gazed at the other woman and Evan glanced between them. This was a regular outing, he guessed, and he was being invited to join their group. He looked back at his mother, stuck on the porch with no one to pull her down the steps to the uneven, rocky ground below. Zoe caught his hesitation and clapped him on the shoulder. "Hey, no worries! Next time." She winked and he flushed. The two women hugged and headed off to take their children to bed before meeting up at Happy Smiles, the local bar-slash-inn.  
How, Evan wondered, was he supposed to get over his middle-school crush on his best friend if she kept being so sweet and understanding. Cynthia grabbed his arm and hauled him toward her van, stabilizing herself as she climbed into the too-big vehicle.  
"We’ll have to have a follow-up to this visit, dear!" She proclaimed this from two feet above Evan as she swung shut the heavy door. He thought she might fall out, so far did she have to lean out to get a hold on the handle. But using a grip on the wheel, which wobbled and spun left as she dragged herself back upright, she managed to get the door shut. "I’ll see you in a few days, I’m glad you’ve been enjoying my dinners!" Speechless, Evan watched the woman fishtail her way down the gravelly drive, remembering the pull-pedal mechanism of the parking brake only after reaching the main road.

Evan pulled open the door to the small general store and his senses were immediately assailed by the scents of fresh coffee and newsprint. Rounding the aisle of common sale goods and clearance items, he found Dale and six other equally-khaki-ed men sitting in the lounge area, sipping lattes and sharing pages out of the morning edition.  
"Oh, h-hey, Dale," Evan waved a little before lowering his hand and gaze as the other men stared.  
"Connor’s in the back, son." Dale shook out his paper in front of him and cleared his throat, at which sound his friends turned their own attention back to the news of the day.  
Evan walked back past the hunting, grocery, pharmacy, pet and outdoor aisles, only to stumble as Brook caught his scent and decided he needed to be dog-tackled. His shins took a good hit on the edge of a shovel display as she knocked into him from behind. She whined when he grunted in pain, but her ears pricked back up as soon as he scratched them, burying his other hand in her thick, soft ruff. Connor pulled his head from the cooler, a jug of juice in either hand as he heard the quiet, pleased chuffing of his dog.  
Instead of going to her and chancing standing next to Evan, Connor directed his path behind the counter, so he could put it between himself and the other man. Glaring at Brook in complete betrayal, he muttered, "I was about to head over to your place. I stopped by C- mom’s but Heidi texted you’d run out of juice. I didn’t," he lifted the two drinks to the counter, "didn’t know. Which one you liked."  
Evan glanced up from the silky fur running through his fingers, Brook completely oblivious to her act of treasonous begging, his own eyes looking brighter and less stressed than Connor’d ever seen them.  
Connor pushed the juices further onto the counter, but as soon as Evan reached out to grab them, a little of the haunted look returned to his eyes. Connor lifted them and started around the counter, heading for the door and his pickup where he’d left the Hansen’s dinner. Evan shrugged and turned to follow, but remembered his reason for coming before Connor could get too far past him.  
"Oh!" He laid his hand on Connor’s forearm before he could think better of the move, and the other man jerked so quickly out of reach that he stumbled forward. Conor made to step back into a position to catch Evan in case he fell, but Brook shoved her way between them and Evan grabbed the counter instead. He gripped it tighter when he saw the curled-back lip of the normally sweet dog, backing into the shovel rack again.  
"Brook," Connor said lowly, and the dog looked up at him before threading around his legs and laying near his feet.  
"I-" Evan started, looking between Brook and Connor before realizing what had just happened. "Oh! I’m so sorry, I hadn’t- I didn’t realize, I-"  
Connor stopped him with and extremely awkward wave of orange juice. "You didn’t, I mean. She doesn’t wear her vest when we’re here because. I mean, I should’ve warned you, people don’t usually get close, I. Everyone knows and I forgot." He addressed all this to the floor at his feet, not risking glancing up through his lashes.  
"I’m so sorry, I wouldn’t’ve," Evan started, his face pale-red with shame and embarrassment. "If I’d known I- I swear!" He made an aborted move to touch Connor’s arm again, but one look at the dog now laying quietly at Connor’s feet made him stop. "I’m sorry."  
The smaller man looked so sincere that the tips of Connor’s ears flushed. He could feel them turning hot, which embarrassed him further, so he turned away, coughed, mumbled something he hoped sounded like a dismissal. "What did you need?"  
Evan blinked a few times before catching up with the change in conversation and pulled several scraps of paper folded together out of his pocket. He looked at each one before returning them and reaching into his other, removing a neatly-folded piece of yellow legal paper. This, he handed to Connor, who traded the orange juice for what looked like a list of supplies.  
"They’re mostly,,, art things." Evan shuffled his feet. "Canvas, paint, some roll film."  
"Paint?" Dale called. His gaze was fixed on his newspaper, but Evan was sure he’d seen every second of what had just happened and changed his opinion of Evan based on it. "They’re got loads of that down in Regina, or over at the ACE Zoe works at."  
A lanky man in a black beret and turtleneck, holding the entertainment section, folded it up and swatted Dale with it. "He doesn’t need house paint, Dale! He’s an artiste!"  
"Oh! Ah." Dale hummed thoughtfully over the top of his newspage. "Right, Connor showed us your gallery opening photos on the internet th’other day. You got any in those museums?"  
Evan glanced sideways at Connor, who was valiantly hiding behind and intensely studying the list Evan had given him and refused to meed the other man’s eye. Evan tilted his head just a little to see around the paper and noticed the flush had gone straight down Connor’s neck, so he replied, "Yeah. That’s right," in a curious tone.  
Connor hitched the note higher between them, giving Evan a glimpse of barely-stubbled chin before he abruptly lowered it to look Evan seriously in the eyes. "It’ll take a couple weeks for everything to get here. Some of these, I have to call the suppliers." "Oh, if it’s too much trouble…," Evan trailed off slightly, wincing at the thought of trying to buy the right shades off an internet delivery service instead of his usual suppliers.  
"No." Connor interrupted him so quickly Evan doubted he’d heard the hesitation. "It’s no trouble. At all. Give me three weeks."  
Evan nodded silently, then followed the taller man as they made their way out to the truck and the waiting dinner inside. Connor slid the juice containers into the box in Evan’s arms, then pulled it from them and slid it into the front seat of Evan’s truck.  
Brook butted the backs of Evan’s knees, whining as the men stood silently for a minute, staring at the store and trees and gravel. Evan stumbled forward and Connor automatically put his hands up to catch him. Evan backed up as quickly as he could, eyed drawn and worried, and Connor lowered his hands achingly slowly, his long, dark lashes shuttering the brief look he gave Evan before the shorter man could decide what it had been. Brook whined again and nudged Evan, startling them from their trance.  
Evan immediately reached down and scratched the dog’s ear, earning a low, pleased rumble, before he remembered what had just happened in the shop. "Oh!" He lifted his hands in surrender. "I’m sorry, I keep…"  
"It’s alright," Connor said, looking up shyly at Evan. "You can pet her, she’s not on duty." He noted the way Evan’s shoulders unhitched when he sank his fingers into the soft fur of Brook’s ruff, how he made more eye contact when talking to Connor, he stuttered less and and seemed more inclined to talk about what he was thinking.  
Like now. Connor knew the feeling, but couldn’t help the twinge of regret he felt when the dog’s calming presence made Evan feel sure enough to say, "My mom’s been asking about you." He at least had the courtesy to blush at his own forwardness "I mean, she’s been wondering when you’ll agree to stay for dinner. You go through all the trouble to bring us our food, she says the least we can do is let you eat some of it."  
Connor flushes, too, not because of the oft-repeated offer, but because he was thinking how cute Evan looked in the setting sunlight and what it would take to get him to blush in pleasure rather than embarrassment.  
But Connor wasn’t experienced in compliments or flirtation, so he stuttered an "I- I don’t," and Evan sighed.  
"I know, she can get a little pushy. She’s usually alone at home, even with all the boarding patients, she doesn’t have many friends." He laughed self-deprecatingly. "My fault for being so much of a hands-on parenting kind of kid. If she’s making you uncomfortable, though, just tell her. She’ll understand." He gave Brook one final pat and she playfully snapped at his cuff as he climbed into his truck.  
Evan turned to secure the box of food in the passenger seat, opening lids and sniffing their contents. His nose wrinkled, and if he’d been facing Connor, the other man would have been reduced to so much putty. "No offense, Connor, I know she’s your mom, but what is this?"  
"Uh, um, no, it’s ok. I think? That’s a casserole? Tuna, maybe. Sorry."  
"No, it’s not your fault. Jared just had to pick the worst cook in Autumn Orchard for mom and me to get dinner from. I don’t know how she’ll out-bland herself from last night’s pork chops. They tasted like old leather." Evan turned from the box to Connor, who gave him a look of pity.  
"There’s applesauce?" Evan snorted in amusement, then clapped his hands over his mouth as he blushed again. Connor gave a small, shy smile and stepped back from the truck cab so Evan could pull off the gravel onto the hardtop road. Evan waved out his window, and Connor lifted his hand in return before snapping it back down and pivoting for the door.  
Brook followed Evan’s truck for a couple of paces, whining when she realized Connor wasn’t going after the young man with her. Instead, he held the door open for his dog and started back toward his office to start making calls to art suppliers.  
Brook stopped at her favourite rug, which caught the sun from three windows on different sides of the shop, so she could always be sure of a warm, sunny napping spot, and propped her chin on a convenient stack of books to watch him as he worked.  
Connor glanced back at Brook and the stuffed shelves and haphazard stacks of books caught his attention. Slowly, dazedly, he wandered over to the lending library, his eye drawn right to the bright red lettering and matching bookmark of the one thing no one in town ever wanted: an old, battered copy of "The Joy of Cooking."


End file.
